Medusa Awakening (Medusa 3)

Medusa awoke, as if from a dream.

Bright lights- painful, white. Faceless people, silvery visors. Mortals? Gods? Demons?

Humming.

What were her memories, those little tidbits meekly peeking out of fog? An ancient life, a past life, a-

A true life?

Medusa remembered being beautiful, being glorious, and in all her arrogance and hubris challenging even the gods. She remembered a vast, empty temple of stone, and a man who smelled of the sea. She remembered one fell night, a curse, the vengeance and hatred of Athena coming down upon her head. Snakes hissing, biting, crying out around her, suddenly wreathing her head in a poisonous crown. She had a tail back then, Medusa remembered, and a face so terrible that it turned mortals to stone when they turned their gaze upon her.

She also remembered being slain.

A hero in simple bronze, a reflective shield, a blade cleaving her head from her shoulders, pain, slicing the very flesh of her neck-

And here she was. Medusa remembered. They had resurrected her, men and women in white robes with mirrors for faces. They had given her feet and talons and made her face beautiful to behold. They had given her a new life, and in return only asked that she go forth for them to live and fight in their grand Arena, to best their champions for the glory of their people-

And yet, this was a lie.

Alongside these memories came contradicting ones, ones of a suburban home in a crowded street, of birthday parties under a burning sun and little children shrilly screaming as they pumped water guns into her face. A yard of freshly mowed grass, a dying tree carefully tended, a mother who worked odd hours in retail and a father who, when she was thirteen, was fired from his job in corporate. She remembered leaving the suburban neighborhood, a clean house that called to her in the voice of years past, for a run-down apartment with a rusty fire escape impeding the view from her bedroom window. School, college, three major changes, student loans and a brittle-looking curator treating her the same dismissive way every single day… Few friends, and fewer pleasures in life. A bittersweet tale hinging on sour. Another life, a truer life-

Amy.

That was her name. A shy girl, often hunched over a computer or a book, with thin brown hair and a soft, mousy look to her. Amy Aguilar, art history major, avid Netflix binger and occasional nerd. Her memories inhabited Medusa’s head, quiet and almost hidden but present all the same.

Oh.

Now Medusa remembered.

The first life, the ancient tragedy of mythological figures and curses that declared themselves in her head strongly and clearly, was a construction. Fitting, for she, Medusa, was also a construction. She realized this. Medusa, despite the rich detail of her life and the unquestionable physical evidence of her existence, was nothing more than a hyper-realistic and scientifically complex skinsuit, a glorified costume with a very human girl tightly tucked away underneath.

It was hard to detect- probably as intended by her coding, in order to avoid an identity crisis mid-shoot- but Medusa could faintly detect a sensation of encompassment, of encasement. If she tried hard enough, she could ever so slightly feel the internal sheathes inserted into the girl underneath her, the thick material smothering the girl’s teeth and tongue, the tug of braided hair painstakingly fitted into winding, hissing snakes. Medusa hesitantly ran a hand- so familiar, and yet she knew, so false- over the side of her face, down her neck. She could feel her hand, and feel her face- and yet in the same instant, the pale flesh hidden underneath her shimmering scales.

Panic arose, bubbling up, but only for an instant. It was gone in a few seconds, replaced by a dull inwards weight. Yes. She was a personna matched to a rubber skinsuit, merely transient consciousness given life for three weeks by an unwitting host. Medusa had to accept that. She did accept that.

Beyond that, Medusa felt… was it sympathy for the girl, Amy? From what she saw, her wearer had lived what was, thus far, a remarkably joyless life. The least that Medusa could do for her was make the next three weeks, which she instinctively knew Amy would remember, as pleasurable as possible.

She looked up. The team of helmeted figures, some in jumpsuits, others in hazmat suits, all hung on her every move eagerly. Watching.

“It looks like the personality programming has taken hold,” someone whispered in the back. It echoed loudly in the otherwise dead silent room. The figure with the designation “One” sharply held up a hand to quiet them. Then their reflective visor turned to face Medusa.

“I greet you, Ancient One. Do you remember us?”

Medusa let the words linger on her tongue, playing up the sultriness of her throaty voice. “Robes of white and blue. Faces like mirrors. Voices like metal. I remember… who I am indebted to for my resurrection.”

One inclined their head in a magnificent fashion, doing some sort of half-bow, half-curtsy that looked supremely ridiculous given that they were dressed in a bulky hazmat suit.

Suckers, a girl buried deeply within Medusa murmured sleepily. Medusa had to agree.

“We have prepared a den for you, o Queen of Gorgons. May it be a dwelling of great comfort for you in the next two days, until the Arena opens.” One turned. “Three, guide her through the tunnels.”

Medusa allowed a regal smile onto her face and inclined her head. “I thank you for your benevolence,” she said, words velvety.

“No, thank you,” One replied, inclining their head grandly, “for gracing us with your presence… Medusa.”

---

Three, or Song Min-seo (of course Medusa knew the name of her creator) gestured into the chamber, welcoming Medusa in.

It was spacious, downright cavernous, a hundred times larger than the pitifully utilitarian room that they had allotted for Amy. On the ceiling were irregular and jagged rock formations, while in the center of the room stretched a pool of water, appearing treacherously shallow but for the deep blue of its hidden depths. Dripping sounds tickled the edges of Medusa’s consciousness, and unknown things swam below.

The home of a gorgon.

“We hope that this residence is to your liking, your Magnificence,” Three said flatly. She seemed utterly bored. “Please bathe or… frolic… in the sinkhole at your whim, and let us know if you desire anything. The council wishes to witness the terrible power of your petrifying gaze, so they will be sending a female sacrifice in a few hours, your lady. Please play with her as you wish, then turn her into stone when you are done. The council looks forward to your glorious victory in the Arena. Rest well, Queen of Gorgons.” Three waggled her helmeted head sardonically and bowed her way out. The great stone slab of a door swung shut, eerily silent.

Medusa stood, submerged in the sounds of water drips and faint splashing from the pool. She was certain beyond all doubt that the chamber was crammed chock-full of recording equipment of all types, cameras and microphones and who knew what else. They were undoubtedly watching keenly from a distance, trying to see if the personality programming- if Medusa herself- was defective.

Amy would not have known what to do. She would have been frozen.

Thankfully, Medusa knew exactly what to do. It was, quite literally, in her code.

She first stretched luxuriously, flaring her curves and her abundant breasts to the dark shadows of the room. Her growl echoed around the cave, repeated and bounced and magnified until it came back as a sexual thrum.

Medusa then slowly prowled her way over to the pool, peering over the edge into a murky abyss. She knew somehow that she could breathe swim- Amy had never learned, but Medusa was graceful in the water, agile as a sea serpent, and to top it off capable of breathing while submerged. However, that would come as a later part of her performance. For now, she knelt at the water’s edge, cupping her hand and scooping some of it up. Medusa examined the crystal-clear water in her palm with a piercing eye. Then she let it trickle through her fingers. The droplets fell, like glittering white diamonds, and plunged back into the deep.

With her wet hand, Medusa slowly and sensually caressed her face, trailing from the far edge of her eye down her cheek to her mouth. She slowly inserted a finger, tasting the cool water- and at the same time, not, for Medusa was faintly aware of the moulded gag in Amy’s mouth, even though the other girl was sleeping and she was awake. The realization tickled Medusa in a way that aroused her greatly, and she suckled on the finger before letting the finger drop further down to her scaly clit. Medusa looked down, allowing the paradox to fill her mind, the sight of her massaging her very real and very familiar slit paired with the subtle sensation of a textured sheath plunged invasively deep into another girl. As a faint heat tinged the edges of her cheeks, Medusa plunged one, then two, then three fingers in, as deep as they could go, and let out a soft hiss of pleasure. It bound up inside her, radiating out to her toes, the sensation running up and down her two skins- and Medusa could tell that Amy was enjoying it, even with her conscious thoughts and personality repressed, she could feel the girl within unconsciously shifting in her tight second skin, flesh within flesh, a muffled moan trapped behind Medusa’s gleaming fangs and forked tongue. Faster her fingers stroked, and at her crotch trembled the white hot feeling, threatening to overwhelm her, threatening to crash over her like a wave-

And then it was over. The sensation, having reached its apex, slowly faded away into a rosy afterglow tinging the edges of Medusa’s vision. Her awareness of the wearer within faded, like escaping memories of a dream.

Medusa carefully extracted her fingers from her cunt, then flexed her hand idly, shooting her talons out like switchblades. She traced a circle on her belly, leaving a gleaming trail of her fluids- was it Amy’s from underneath, or something produced by the marvels of her- the suit’s- engineering? Then Medusa curled up gently and fell asleep.